Time in a Bottle
by Besarien
Summary: When a Muggle from the future discovers Hogwarts, she realizes she can't change time. So she decides to change some stubborn minds instead. HPDM slash, SSOC het, eventually. My first posted fic so any input is most appreciated. Will return reviews.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling.

I'm Besarien. Hi! This is my first story. I'm breaking it up into rather short chapters so I can continue to post often. It's not finished. In fact it's hardly started. There are five chapters written. I think this is a DM/HP SS/OC - but I'm open to suggestions on where else to take it. I do know it's going to be quite long. All reviews are welcome. Will do my best to return the favor too.

Time in a Bottle

At eight thirty eight pm GMT at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini toiled in one of the castles many storerooms, cleaning out a closet that didn't look as though it had been cleaned since Hogwarts was young. Filch had left them to it when Missus Norris informed him that other students were up to no good. It didn't matter to Filch how long it took them, since their detention wouldn't end and the storeroom wouldn't release them (thanks to Professor Snape) until the closet was clean and tidy- all without the use of magic. Filch loved his job!

It was a hot, dusty, grimy, claustrophobic task, but at least for Zabini and Nott, it was mildly interesting.

"Hey look at this," said Blaise holding out a ship in a bottle.

"Let me see that," said Theo, grabbing the neck. Blaise pulled it away. Both lost their grip. The bottle smashed on the stone floor sending shards of glass, bits of ship, and a rather smelly pale blue potion in all directions.

"Oh well done Theo, that's more a mess we'll have to clear up without magic," Blaise said glumly.

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At two thirty two pm EST Jane returned to her cabin stuffed from a long and thoroughly amazing lunch. The food alone would have been worth the price of her tickets had she bought them. To date, her cruise for two to Nassau was the best prize she had ever won, on the radio or anywhere else. Okay, so it was also the only prize she had ever won. It was still a really good one! She was sorry one of the two tickets had gone to waste.

Her sister Pam was supposed to accompany her, but dumped her to go to Aspen for Christmas with her lastest boyfriend, an extreme sports nut whose bleached blonde hair never moved no matter what cliff he was climbing up or jumping off. He and Pam had made their Aspen plans nearly a month ago, though Pam had only let Jane know at the very last moment. The whole incident was trademark Pam and shouldn't have been such a tremendous disappointment to her- not after all this time, not as well as she knew her sister.

It seemed everyone else she knew had plans. Most either wanted to spend Christmas at home with family or were stuck there with husbands, kids, and pets to look after. Jane simply didn't know the kind of people who could hop a cruise for the holidays with less than two day's notice, except for her sister of course. In the end Jane had offered the extra ticket to everyone- even to people she worked with and didn't like and practical strangers who lived in her building. There were no takers. It was a good thing too. She found out when she turned in the ticket that since she had named her sister as her travelling companion back six months ago when Pam agreed to accompany her, the ticket was made non-transferable.

But here she was, on a ship packed with strangers, still determined to have a decent time all by herself. She thought she was doing a better job of it than most people would in her situation. Jane was never terribly social. She had only a few passably good friends now as an adult. In her younger days she had been a pariah, not merely immensely unpopular at school, but ridiculed and shunned. She also knew that there were reasons for that. Thankfully most of those reasons didn't have a lot to do with her attractiveness or personality.

On the other hand, Pam her younger sister had to overcome all the same obstacles. Pamela had hurdled those obstacles making them seem no more than cracks in a sidewalk. Pam had things going for her that Jane did not. Pam was the prettier one and the more graceful one. Pam also had a personality that shone like the sun. People wanted to be around her, to bask in her light. No one ever seemed to notice that Pam cared only about Pam. Sometimes Jane thought that was the scar that Pam carried from the accident, the result of losing parents too young. Though Jane carried her own scars, sometimes she wondered if her sister wouldn't have turned out exactly the same regardless.

She didn't want to think about her sister today. She wanted to shave, put on her brand new one piece, and read the second of the three books she had brought with her on her free cruise. Yesterday by the same pool she had finished reading the sixth book in the Harry Potter series. That was before her legs had begun to stubble and the hair around her bikini line reappeared to cast that familiar dark shadow.

The bathroom in her cabin was a ridiculously tight squeeze. Shaving legs and other bits in there wasn't going to be easy. It didn't help that they were hitting what the Norwegian captain had called 'old seas.' Perhaps something was lost in translation? Maybe he had said 'odd seas?' As far as she could tell, what ever was odd or old about the ocean was the sea-going equivalent of the turbulence one experienced on planes. At least she did not seem prone to sea-sickness. Many of her fellow passengers, she had noticed, were not at lunch. The few she passed on her way back to her cabin had looked miserable with a capital M.

There was no way on earth that Jane was going to dry shave her legs, never mind her more sensitive parts. Jane decided that she might be able to shave her legs properly in one of three ways. She could shave her legs in the toilet bowl. This option held no appeal at all, though it might have been the easiest way to get the job done. The sink was rather high and set at an odd angle. If she were going to use that, she would have to stand with one foot on the toilet and one foot in the sink. It would be manageable providing the sea cooperated. She just wasn't feeling that lucky today. The last thing she wanted to do was give herself a broken leg for Christmas.

She decided on her third plan. This one seemed less dangerous than the second and had added benefits, namely she thought another shower would feel great. The one she'd taken this morning was rushed as she hadn't wanted to miss breakfast. God, her whole vacation seemed to be revolving around when the next meal was being served. She'd probably have to diet when she got home just to be comfortable in her clothes again. She didn't care. She'd never seen so much fabulous food and so many choices! All of them that she had found room to try were absolutely exquisite.

She undressed, grabbed her kit and before she turned the water on, stood in the shower figuring out just how she was going to carry out her third plan. The problem was that the shower offered sufficient space for her to stand in and not much more. A very large person would spend the cruise taking sink baths. In the shower, she was too tall to bend over to get at her legs. She doubted that a professional contortionist could have managed that way. She opened the door again. There! She'd just leave it open and sop up whatever water escaped with her towel after she was through with it.

Jane turned on the water. Nothing happened. Puzzled, she closed the door and turned the water on again. This time, the water jetted at her from three different directions, just as she remembered happening this morning. Great. So the water didn't spray unless the door was closed. Technology would be the end of her. Time for a fourth plan then.

She opened the door, kicked her right leg up grabbed her ankle then brought it over her head, back into the shower with her. She propped her heel high up on the tile and closed the shower door. Thank God she was still flexible enough to do a split. She figured older women either used the toilet or let their legs grow hairy. Perhaps seasoned cruisers all brought depilatory cream along with them. Even if she had known, she wouldn't have brought that stuff. It made her skin break out with huge pimples that looked a whole lot worse that having a bit of hair down there. Now with her leg above her head, she could not reach her shaving kit, of course. Screw this! Jane decided on a fifth plan and knew it was the way to go. She would take a hot shower, get out soaking wet, sit on the toilet still soaking wet sudsing herself all over with her shaving cream, shave leisurely, then get back in the shower to rinse. She'd worry about the tremendously huge mess that she was going to make after she was finished. Happy with her plan, she opened the door again. Just then, at precisely two thirty eight pm EST, the ship lurched sharply. She lost her one footed balance on the slippery tile and fell out of the shower, with her head aimed directly at- well, at the head. The last thing she remembered was pain.

-tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the review Isis Von Ishtar! Hey, anybody else reading this? Anybody? Nah, no pressure. If you'd like to comment you're more than welcome though.

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The next thing she knew was also pain. Pain was good, Jane thought. At least she knew she hadn't killed herself yet with her own stupid vanity. She was also extremely cold. She wondered if she'd broken her ankle. She figured her ankle would hurt a lot more than it did if it were broken. Then she decided that as much as her head hurt she probably wouldn't feel her ankle at all unless there was a bone sticking out of it. Her head felt like it was split clean down the middle like a honeydew melon. She raised her hand to her head to check. Nope, no thanks to her, her head was still in one piece. There was a bump the size of a walnut at her hairline though. Now, that had to be a thousand times more attractive than just having hairy legs.

With quite a bit of effort, Jane opened her eyes and looked at her fingers. At least she didn't seem to be bleeding from a scalp wound. She was also relieved that wherever she was now, was dimly lit because her head- but wait! Why was she on a cold stone floor? Why were the walls stone? Where the hell was she? Was she in Nassau? If she was, why was she still naked and wet? When she sat up her vision blurred. The world started to spin. She knew she'd never have to stick her head in a giant blender to imagine what that would feel like. She felt weak and very stiff. Suddenly her eyes began to focus again. Hey look at that! There was a bone jutting right through her skin! Must be one of hers too. Not at all likely there were stray bones around for her to impale in her ankle. Splendid! No need for her to worry now whether it was broken or not. She wondered if she could crawl to somewhere, or if she would just fall down again hard and finish the job she had started on her head. Instead of crawling to see if she could, which she thought was probably the dumbest thing she hadn't yet managed to do to herself today, she shifted so that she could lean up against the stone wall and hopefully figure out in which direction she would need to crawl when she finally decided that it was time to prove to herself that there really was no end to her idiocy.

Holy shit. The place looked like some kind of fort! There were actual wall torches! Though she did not hear him approach, suddenly a priest walked into her view. Apparently she really startled him. He looked positively pained when his eyes flicked over her nudeness. She figured she really should try to cover herself, out of respect for the clergy, men of the cloth, vows of celibacy, God himself and all that. She definitely should attempt to close her legs at the very least. Of course it would be easier for her to throw an arm across her breasts. Maybe just a token of shame would do, like lowering her eyes instead of just staring right at him. Nope. Apparently at this very low point in her life, she just couldn't give a shit. The handbasket for Hell was leaving and she'd won two free tickets care of her favorite morning radio station. Woohoo! Jane felt positively giddy! Can one be giddy with pain? Maybe she wasn't injured at all. Maybe she was just drunk- except she didn't drink and that really was a bone sticking out of her ankle. But, oh by the way, "Who are you?" Talking set off a series of incredibly painful explosions inside her head otherwise known as syllables. She didn't feel giddy anymore which kind of sucked. There was no help for that. She needed to talk. It was better than ignoring a priest and trying to crawl.

"I believe that is more correctly my question. How did you get in here?"

"Where am I?"

"This is- a school. Were you attacked?"

"Nope. I did all this to myself. Who knew shaving on a cruise ship was so dangerous?"

"Shaving?"

"I'm nude."

"I had noticed."

"Well, can I have your- what do you call that thing- cassock?"

"No. Here."

He reached into his clothes and pulled out a white handkerchief. He tossed it to her. It sailed down and fell across her left thigh. To be fair to the priest, it was clean and large for a handkerchief, more like the size of a large cloth dinner napkin but not so large to dress or warm her in any meaningful way. Just maybe if he had given her two of them, she could have tied one like a bikini top and the other around her hips like a diaper or a loin cloth.

"Just how am I supposed to wear this?"

"That is not my problem."

She draped the handkerchief so that one point covered her panty parts and one point fell just under her chin. The material between covered both her breasts. There! She was decent now, sort of, so long as she didn't move. Not that she felt like moving a muscle or that he hadn't had plenty of time to survey the scenery.

"Thanks. I guess I'll just stay right here like this now."

"You can not remain in this hallway!"

"Look- what's your name?"

"My name is irrelevant to your current situation."

Now there's an original name! I'll bet he got teased in school too. "What shall I call you? Hey you?"

"You may call me Professor."

Great. She'd hit her head and dreamed herself into her Harry Potter book. If she didn't hurt so much she might have laughed at the idea. Nothing seemed funny now; though everything seemed ironic. Maybe she could give him a laugh. He certainly looked like he could use one.

"Professor Snape, I presume?"

The change in the man was noteworthy even in her state and may have been frightening, had she not passed caring about, well, about most things really. He did look furious and moved abruptly closer to her. This man had a powerful body. Somehow his clothes had hidden that fact until now.

"It was a joke. I didn't mean that as an insult."

"How do you know my name?"

tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

Um, well- I'll just hope someone will actually read this one day. Nevermind, if you are the only soul to ever read this- hi! I'm writing just for the two of us. Oh, did I mention? All comments welcome!

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"Oh. Now you're kidding. You had me going. I'd laugh except that I'd probably pass out."

"Who are you? Who sent you here?"

"My name's Jane Watts. No one sent me but someone must have brought me here. I don't know where I am. I'm wondering if I'm hallucinating you. Am I? would you tell me if I were? I think I've hit my head pretty hard, Professor."

His suspicion seemed to lessen just a bit. He let his eyes rove over her again. "Judging by that large lump on your forehead I would say that you are correct." His tone was gentler now.

"Aren't you sorts supposed to care for your fellow man or something?"

"You sorts?"

"Priests, monks, fathers, brothers, professors, whatever you are?"

"Ah."

"Well, aren't you?"

"If I were, what would you have me do, exactly?"

"Help! Find a blanket. Call a doctor. Look, I'm American-"

"I had gathered that much."

"Are we in Nassau?"

"Nassau?"

"We're not in Nassau?"

"We are in Scotland. Is that a bone sticking out of your ankle?"

"There is a Scotland in the Bahamas?"

"Not as far as I know."

"North of England? That Scotland? Oh right. Yeah, very funny. Look, I'm really hurt. And, yes, that is a bone sticking out. I don't think I want to play Harry Potter anymore. I appreciate you trying to take my mind off things; but, you're kind of freaking me out."

"How do you know that name?"

"What name?"

"Harry Potter!"

"Harry Potter is a cultural phenomenon."

"You are a Squib?"

"Um, look- Professor- is there another brother or priest or professor or whatever, is there anyone else around here, anybody at all?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh you know, so long as we're playing Harry Potter, the more the merrier, right? Can I talk to," No. Albus Dumbledore was a bad choice in light of the Half-Blood Prince. God she hurt way too much to have to humor an insane monk, "Professor McGonagall? Or Madame Pomfrey?"

He was giving her that look again, as if it were some huge mystery that she knew these names. Actually, the man did quite a decent impression of Snape, all things considered. Tall, dark eyed, with long dark hair- physically he was right for the part, though this man was the other end of the spectrum from what she'd call repulsive. Then again, so was Alan Rickman. He did a fine job with Snape in the movies. This man's accent sounded right, too, especially when he finally said, "Professor McGonagall is away on holiday. I will take you to Madame Pomfrey."

"Professor, thing is, I don't think I can walk on my own, or even with a whole lot of help. Could you bring Madame Pomfrey to me?"

Before she could protest, the man had knelt down on one knee, gathered her in his arms and lifted her like she weighed nothing more than a sack of feathers. She managed to grab the handkerchief before it sailed to the floor. He was walking too fast for it to give her body any sort of coverage. It was more like the surrender flag flying on the S.S. Jane. Holy Rasputin, Batman, but this mad monk was strong! Strong and insane is such a bad combination too. But he was really warm, hot even, and his body heat was making her feel really sleepy. She only hoped that he was taking her somewhere that she might want to go. Not that there was much that she could do about it if he weren't- not that she wouldn't try.

He whisked her down endless passageways, up countless stone steps, down more passageways. Where ever she was, this structure was frigging huge! That or he was walking around in a circle. Still, it would have been a really big circle; therefore the place was still frigging huge. Finally he put her down very softly, very careful of her ankle, on a bed. That might have been somewhat alarming except that it was the first in a neat row of beds. There was a medicinally clean smell about this room. She did indeed get the sense that she was in some kind of infirmary.

"Goodness, Severus! Who is this woman? Is she a Muggle? What happened to her? Where are her clothes? Why were you carrying her?"

"I do not know who she is, Poppy. If she is a Muggle, she has knowledge that she should not possess. I found her in the dungeons. I do not know what became of her clothing. I carried her so as not to upset her any more than necessary," the man locked eyes with Jane for a fleeting second before continuing," though she does not seem the hysterical type."

Severus? Poppy? But how? It's not like he had the opportunity to encourage this woman, this nurse, this sister, or what ever she is, to play the 'Happy Game' with him.

"I'm at Hogwarts- Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I really am here. Aren't I? Please don't Obliviate me."

"Severus, I think you need to summon Albus back immediately."

"That was my plan." Snape left without a backward glance.

How the hell had she fallen into a kid's book? Fiction- it's- fictional! not real. Suddenly a crazy idea hit her. What did she know about Scotland? Bagpipes, Braveheart, Loch Ness, and nothing! Maybe the books were based on this school, on these real people- God what a juicy lawsuit! No.

They called her a Muggle- Muggle, meaning non-magical person. Rational. Be rational, Jane. Either she had happened on some role-playing cult in Nassau that really had its shit together, or she was dreaming. She liked the second option far better, for one thing it was a whole lot less spooky. In her heart of hearts though she knew that she was not dreaming. Or at least dreaming had never hurt like this before. But wait! She had hit her head! Maybe she knocked a whole bunch of weird shit loose and gave herself some kind of- what would this be? A delusional episode? How would she know? She'd only taken two semesters of Psych at State before deciding that she preferred Sociology.

The muddle that passed for her rational thinking was not aided by the distraction this woman was providing. Madame Pomfrey, or whoever she was really, if indeed she existed at all, was waving her wand over Jane's body, appearing very deep in concentration. Jane looked at the wand, tried hard and really focused on it.

It was beautiful. It did not look like an expensive prop. It looked like a well-made, well-used tool, something this woman had handled every day for a very, very long time. Then there was this place. It was better than a movie set. Nobody built sets anymore. Did they? Wasn't it all done with blue screen or cgi or something? If someone did build a set for a movie they sure as hell didn't build it out of massive carved stones.

"My name's Jane Elizabeth Watts. I am a Muggle. I don't know how I got here. I was on a cruise ship bound for Nassau. This- world, your Wizarding World, exists only in books in my world, at least as far as I know. There are seven books- one for each of Harry Potter's years at Hogwarts. The seventh book hasn't been published yet. Is this Harry's sixth year?"

Madame Pomfrey had stopped waving her wand and now regarded Jane with kind, intelligent, concerned eyes.

"No dear, this is Harry Potter's fifth year. Most of the students went home this morning on holiday."

"Harry didn't though. Well, he might have gone to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. I can't remember. I read the fifth one- well it's been a while. I just finished reading the sixth book."

"Oh dear."

tbc-


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to discontinued me for the lovely review! I'm so happy this is not the very worst thing you've read! This chapter is just a bit longer for you.

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Jane couldn't tell whether Pomfrey believed her or even if she understood what Jane was trying to tell her. Jane's mind just blanked out of the conversation after that. She wondered vaguely if it had been something Pomfrey had done, or if her mind just didn't care to cope with this level of strangeness anymore. When she caught herself actively thinking again, she was thinking about Severus Snape. It was odd. She didn't know him at all, of course, except from the books. Still, it was hard for her to imagine the man who had carried her to the infirmary killing Albus Dumbledore, not that she'd met Dumbledore, not yet. In fact, it was hard for her to reconcile this Snape, the one who had carried her, with Snape the fictional character.

First of all, why do the books harp on and on endlessly about how ugly he is? Fine, he's not Orlando Bloom. We get it. Then again Orlando had never been her type. It wasn't a stretch to describe Severus as striking or sexy, even. He was tall, dark, intense, and was certainly in great shape. How old was he supposed to be? About forty? Most of the guys she met in their twenties didn't look half as good to her as he did.

She thought about the descriptions from the books- greasy, big-nosed- what was all that about? Some kind of a racial slur? Jane had always HATED that sort of thing, probably because she had been on the receiving end of similar small-minded racist insults. She remembered the way his black eyes had flashed, the blue-black sheen to his hair, his strong facial structure. Snape looked like he well may have some Italian or Arab in him, but so what? The ethnicity or appearance of other characters in the books never seemed an important issue. Why was it with Snape then? Because Harry didn't like him?

Then again Harry was young and male. Perhaps that was the problem. After all, there is no objective voice in the Harry Potter novels. It is part of the appeal- viewing a magical world from a young person's perspective. Even the remote narrative seems to ring true to what Harry would think if he were there.

Truthfully, Jane had never given the books this much deep thought before. Since she picked up the first book in a grocery store curious to find out what all the fuss was about, the most magical aspect of Rowling universe, the pure escapism, had sucked her in. She had read all the rest whenever she noticed that another had made it to paperback. She had enjoyed all of them. She never re-read them though. She never discussed or dissected them. She had never until today, truly considered the characters or the world that they inhabited. Now, she wished she had memorized every single word. Some advice her father had given her once again came back to haunt her: never take anything for granted since you never know what might become important.

"Madame Pomfrey?"

"Please. Call me Poppy."

"Why is Professor Snape considered ugly?"

A smile suddenly appeared just at the corners of her mouth. "I take it that you do not find him so?"

"Far from it."

"Perhaps your opinion is the only one that matters."

"What an interesting way to avoid answering a question."

"I wasn't sorted into Slytherin for nothing, dear."

"You're a Slytherin? That never made it into the books. I'm sure I would have remembered reading that."

"Well, I'm not surprised. It is now a very little known fact since I graduated so very long ago. Probably a good thing too. Couldn't have the Gryffindors afraid of letting me treat them."

Jane wondered just how old this woman was. She'd have guessed fifty-something. Being that she was a witch, she could be ancient. Jane would be none the wiser. Jane was not going to asked her either. The only person entitled to know a woman's age-

"How old are you, Jane?"

-was her doctor or in this case her mediwitch. "How old do I look?"

"I don't know. It's not as if I meet so very many Muggles that I am able to guess. I was hoping you would tell me."

"Twenty nine and have been for the last twenty years. Just kidding. I'm twenty nine."

"Severus is seven years older than you. He'll outlive you too, provided he doesn't die by violence, which is a possibility for anyone. I've finished examining your injuries. Next I'll heal you. I warn you, if you decide that you don't want to sleep through that part, you may experience some pain."

"This may be my one and only chance to ever see magic. I want to see that, Poppy, even if I won't remember it later. What will you do with me? Obliviate me and leave me by the side of the road somewhere? Would you do me a favor first? Will you find me some clothes, before you do that?"

"Why do you think that we will Obliviate you?"

"Because I've read the books. The Ministry has wizards who do nothing else. Right?"

"You should also remember that you are not at the Ministry of Magic. You are here at Hogwarts. We hold ourselves to a higher standard than many other Wizarding institutions."

"Does that mean you won't Obliviate me?"

"I will do nothing to you, Jane, except to mend your broken bone and heal your other injuries."

"I hope you are as skilled at healing as you are at the art of evasion, Poppy."

"You judge. How do you feel?"

Suddenly Jane realized that her head didn't hurt anymore. She could flex her ankle without pain, too. She hopped out of bed onto it.

"You are a sneak! I completely missed the magic. You healed my head, too. I didn't feel a thing. You knew I wouldn't! Oh. Should I be walking around on my ankle this soon?"

"Did I stop you? Accio slippers and pajamas, two pair." Jane watched in absolute delight as what Poppy requested flew off a shelf across the room into her hands. At her instruction, Jane put a pair of pajamas on. Poppy transfigured them into a black bra and underwear. She put another pair on, that became a long black skirt and a black silky blouse. The slippers turned into sensible black flats."There now, even Severus can't fine fault with black. Perhaps you should return his handkerchief, dear."

Jane twirled then felt a bit silly for doing it. Pomfrey didn't seem to mind. "I feel like Cinderella! Wow, I'd love to go shopping with you. That was- magical! Thank you, Poppy."

"You are quite welcome. Will you have trouble finding your way back to the dungeons?"

"I was planning on asking portraits."

"My, you are clever. The portraits will see you don't get lost."

"I'm really very glad to have made your aquaintance. In fact, if I had it to do over, I'd break my ankle again just to meet you. Thank you for doing the first and probably the only magic I'll ever see. I hope I'll get to see you again, whatever Albus decides to do with me."

"I look forward to it, Jane. Good luck to you, dear."

Jane turned and waved as she exited the infirmary and walked right into Severus Snape.

"Hello again. I was just coming down to the dungeons to see you."

"May I ask why?"

"To thank you for helping me and to return your handkerchief. I also wanted to talk again now that my head is clear." Jane held out the handkerchief.

"Keep it."

"Thank you! Poppy made me Cinderella. Now I'm Desdemona!"

"Your new identity does not bode well for you."

"True, but I can't think of anyone else who was given a handkerchief."

"What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Could we go somewhere? Sit and talk?"

"You look recovered enough to stand."

"Do you have something against sitting, Professor Snape?"

"No, I have something against you, Miss Watts."

"Oh. Is that why you don't want your handkerchief back?"

"I will never miss it."

"Would you like to share what you hold against me?"

"How did you know my name, about Potter, McGonagall, Pomfrey, Hogwarts, and Obliviation?"

"Because I've read about Harry Potter and Hogwarts."

"Read? In a newspaper?"

"A series of books written by J.K. Rowling. The first book was called Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It was the story of Harry's first year here. The second was his second year at Hogwarts and so on. They are children's books. Adults read them too because the books are clever."

"You claim to know what has happened at Hogwarts since Potter's first year?"

"Not at all. I did read books about those years. I have no idea how accurate the books are, or even how much I remember about them."

"The last book you read covers Potter's fourth year?"

"No, his sixth year. The seventh book is the only one I haven't read. That one hasn't been published yet."

"You are suggesting that you know the future?"

"I'm suggesting that may be a possibility, yes."

"Because you have read books written by a Muggle?"

"I don't know. She might be a Witch for all I know."

"She?"

"Yes, J.K. Rowling is a woman."

"You do realize that I can check this information?"

"That's fine. I've told you the truth."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You told me that your name is Jane Watts?"

"Yes?"

"Middle name?

"Elizabeth."

"Age?"

What was it? No one ever asks her age. Now twice in one day, just minutes apart?

"Twenty nine."

"Date?"

"I'd love to!"

He was giving her the look again. This time his brow wrinkled. "I meant your birth date."

"I know. It's January 9th."

There was that look again. This time she had no idea why. Maybe he was reconsidering their date.

"Are you reconsidering our date? It doesn't have to be fancy."

"Born where?"

"Cocoa Beach, Florida, USA."

"I do know where Florida is located."

"See? We have so much in common!"

"Parents?"

"Deceased."

"Their names?"

"John William Watts and Marilyn Conrad Watts.

"Nee Conrad?"

"Five points to Slytherin!"

Now he just looked annoyed.

"Her full maiden name?"

"Marilyn Conrad. She didn't have a middle name as far as I know. That was all that was on her birth certificate. Please don't ask for their social security numbers. I can barely remember my own. Oh my God!" Jane clapped her hands to her cheeks.

"The reason for your religious crisis?"

"I just realized that my passport's in Nassau! If I'm even that lucky! Oh no! They'll think I've fallen overboard!"

"Any of this matters?"

"Yes! They could have notified my sister that I'm dead! I have to call her. I don't suppose you have a cell phone that I can borrow?"

"No."

"Do you have a cell phone that I can't borrow?"

"No. What is your sister's full name?"

"Pamela Anne Watts. She's in Aspen with her boyfriend. Her cell phone number is-"

"Miss Watts, I do not care."

"Oh."

"Miss Watts-"

"You've seen me naked. You've touched my naked body. In fact you carried my naked body over a considerable distance. You helped me when I really needed help. Any way you slice that pizza, you get to call me Jane."

"Miss Watts, the Headmaster should return shortly. If you give him the appropriate information, I'm certain he will find some way to contact your sister."

"Thank you! I don't suppose-"

"Yes?"

"Oh nothing. Did you have more questions?"

"I have sufficient information to begin my investigation of you."

"I could write it all down for you."

"That is unnecessary."

"Are you sure you remember all of it?"

"Yes."

"What's my sister's middle name?"

"No Watts is your sister's last name. Her middle name is Anne."

"That's what I've always liked about you- well, about your character from the books. I've always enjoyed your sense of humor. I don't suppose-"

"That is the second time you have started that sentence."

"Yes. I've taken enough of your time though. Thanks again for saving me and for the gift of your handkerchief even though you don't want it anymore."

"Where do you imagine you are going?"

"I figured I'd give myself a tour of Hogwarts."

"You may not wander!"

"Why not?"

"Because I just told you that you -may- not."

"Fair enough. I don't suppose- that you'd like to give me a tour?"

"Five points to Cocoa Beach, Florida."

"What do you suggest that I do?"

"Do? Why do you have to -do- anything?"

"All right. While I'm doing nothing, do you want me to stand right here on this exact spot?"

"In a hallway? Outside of the infirmary? Certainly not. Follow me."

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Thank you for reading. All comments are most welcome.

tbc-


	5. Chapter 5

To my reviewers, discontinued-me and gowvan, thanks for reviewing! Happy I've given you some enjoyment. Hey, look! The longest chapter so far!

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Jane followed him down stone steps and through corridors, down more stone steps.

"Is Hogwarts really a thousand years old?"

"None of your affair. Do not touch anything."

She sort of figured they were on their way to the dungeons though nothing of what they passed looked at all familiar. Of course she'd been in pain and concerned that Snape was a raving lunatic at the time, so perhaps she hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention the first time around. Finally they came to a large, ancient oak door. Snape reached up above the door and knocked some dust off into her hair.

"Ah," he said and slid the ornate silver key he had found up there into the keyhole. He held the door open for her.

"Thank you kind sir. Such a gentleman!"

"Not at all."

Then he locked the door behind her.

It didn't take Jane any time to process the fact that Severus Snape had just locked her in a dungeon. It was a decent-sized room. In fact her entire apartment could probably fit inside of it. It certainly wasn't as comfortable as her apartment. This was pitifully furnished even by dungeon standards, in her opinion. There wasn't a filthy mattress, or a vicious rat gnawing on the bones of another once vicious rat, no leg-irons hanging from the ceiling, not even a pot to piss in, and that last part really pissed her off. She didn't have to go but she might have. It really was the principle of the thing. What was she supposed to do had she needed to relieve herself? Squat in a corner? She could practically hear Snape's patented answer. 'That is not my problem.'

There was no apparent light source either. No bare bulb, no hole in the ceiling, no high tiny window with bars. The light was just there in the room with her. Now that part was pretty cool. No matter where she stood, she couldn't cast a shadow. From Cinderella and Desdemona to Peter Pan! She went over to the door, got down on her knees and looked underneath. There was about an inch of space between the wood door and the stone floor. Next she pressed her eye to the keyhole.

What kind of an idiot did he think she was, anyway? Did he have such a low opinion of Muggles in general or just of her specifically? Did she even want to know?

She carefully spread Snape's handkerchief out on the stone floor, then pushed and slid it, rocking it back and forth until all but the edge of it was beyond her reach with the vast majority of it spread out on the other side of the door. She took out her left earring and jiggled the post end in the key hole. It was just long enough to get the job done. Unfortunately there was one place she could have imagined the key might land that was not covered by Snape's handkerchief- the area just to the other side of the door jamb. Given how her day was going she was not the least bit surprised that was where the key had ended up. All was not lost though!

She took her earring, pushed the post through the very corner of the handkerchief, placed the little butterfly clip on the post then carefully pushed the handkerchief under the door aimed corner first at the key, which she could just see. Eventually she snagged a bit of it and managed to move the key a bit closer. Then she snagged the hole which one might use to put the key on a chain. She pulled the key a bit closer still. She did the same thing, again and again, until she drew the key under the door. The lock stuck a bit and required some jiggling but finally the door swung open, just as Snape rounded the corner.

"Ah, Miss Watts. The Headmaster has returned. If you will come this way I will show you to his office."

"Thank you for leaving me something to do to occupy my free time."

"The pleasure was mine," he said it with the slightest bow which really was sort of cute in a very uptight, old fashioned way.

Snape held out his hand. Jane took it. His was a really nice hand. There was no hair on his knuckles, no warts on his fingers, and no dirt under his fingernails, not that she expected to find any of that on his hands. Those were just some of her major turn offs when it came to mens' hands. His were large expressive hands with long slender fingers. Those fingers looked like they were made to play Rachmaninoff. The whole of his hand was nicely shaped too. His nails looked clean and neatly clipped but not professionally manicured or anything prissy like that. His skin felt warm, dry, and smooth but not soft. This was a strong hand, a working hand, a manly hand. She could sense power, precision and gentleness in it. She wondered what it would be like to suck on one of those fingers. And hey, if his fingers were this long-

"Not your hand, Miss Watts. The key."

"Oh." She retrieved her hand from his and replaced it with the key. He returned it to the ledge above the door. At least he didn't get dust in her hair this time.

"Follow me." Regardless of what had happened last time, she did.

This part was exactly like what Jane remembered from the books, except for the password- 'McCowan's Highland Toffee' which she didn't remember any of the kids ever eating and had never heard of before.

"Goodness! You look more like Professor Dumbledore than Richard Harris did!"

"Ah, Miss Watts! Welcome to Hogwarts. Do have a seat. Lemon sherbert?"

"I'd love one! Thank you so much! How could anyone refuse a real lemondrop from Albus Dumbledore?"

Snape snorted. When Jane glanced at him he was reclined in a non-reclining chair. His eyes were closed. He looked fast asleep.

Jane sat and placed the candy in her mouth. It tasted- too sweet. For some reason, that was really disappointing.

"Your presence here at Hogwart is something of mystery to us, and to you as well, or so I gather?"

Jane slid the candy under her tongue so she could talk properly. She was starting to taste the sherbert part now which was just disgusting. What she really wanted to do was spit it out, but all she had to do that with was Snape's handkerchief or her hand.

"I was on a cruise ship that left the Port of Miami for Nassau. It was our second day out. The captain said we were experiencing 'old seas' what ever that means. At least I think that's what he said. I was in my cabin trying to shave my legs in the shower and slipped. That's about all I can tell you. The next thing I knew I was still nude and soaking wet with a bump on my head and broken ankle. That's when Professor Snape found me."

Perhaps it was the mention of his name. Snape stirred. In fact he sat up straighter in his chair but never opened his eyes.

"Professor Snape tells me that you know quite a bit about Hogwarts having read about us in a series of children's books? I was wondering if you could tell me some of the other things you remember reading, things we might verify but are not common knowledge in our world?"

"I'm not sure what is common knowledge here, but here goes. Hermione Granger whose middle name is Jane set Professor Snape on fire at the Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch match during Harry's first year. She thought that Professor Snape was cursing Harry's broom. Professor Snape was really saving Harry's butt. Quirrell was cursing the broom because he was sharing a head with Vol- uh, the Dark Lord whose real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Hermione also stole Boomslang skin and -uh something else- Bicorn horn? Something like that, and made Polyjuice Potion which turned her into a cat because the hair she took from Millicent Bulstrode's robes was really cat hair. Harry and Ron turned into Crabbe and Goyle. I don't remember who was Crabbe and who was Goyle, but they went to the Slytherin Common Room and tried to get Draco Malfoy to talk about the Heir of Slytherin. They all figured if anyone knew it was Draco. He didn't know but Lucius did since he gave Ginny Weasley the cursed diary in the first place. Harry used the Sword of Gryffindor to defeat the Basilisk. Gilderoy Lockhart cast a memory charm but it backfired on him. Oh, I know all about the prophesy, and Godric Hollow, and Professor Snape's spying. Your dad was a Muggle named Tobias. Your mother was Eileen Prince. Trelawney drinks to excess. Harry lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He and Tom both speak Parseltongue. Oh and Tom's mom's name was Me-ro-pe. Now you can't tell me that a whole lot of people know that!"

Jane paused for a moment but since neither Albus nor Professor Snape said anything, she continued. "Vol- uh, the Dark's Lord's snake is named Nagini. Neville Longbottom's parents are Cruciatus victims who live on the 4th floor of St. Mungos. Neville makes cauldrons blow up and keeps a toad named Trevor. His birthday is the day before Harry's. Sirius Black is Animagus and tore up the portrait of the Fat Lady. He escaped on Buckbeak. Tom blamed Hagrid's giant spider for the death of Moaning Myrtle and that's why Hagrid couldn't use a wand. Let's see, you have a Pensieve. Hermione had a Time-Turner. You wear the Dark Mark on your left forearm. Neville had a Remembrall. Harry has an Invisibility Cloak that used to belong to his dad and the Marauder's Map which the Weasley twins stole from Mr. Filch. Dobby took the Gillyweed and gave it to Harry so he could breath underwater. I think you were right about getting Lupin to quit by the way. He almost killed those kids and almost killed you twice. I also know what you get when you mix asphodel with wormwood, where to find a bezoar and that you can brew fame and stopper death. Was there something specific you wanted to ask or do you want me to keep on babbling?"

"You have read all the books except the last?"

"Yes, but if it helps, these are kids books. The defeat of evil is essential to children's lit. I have no doubt Vol- uh, the Dark Lord will lose in the last book."

"Why do you call Tom Riddle the Dark Lord, Miss Watts?"

"Call me Jane."

"If you will call me Albus?"

"I'd be honored to, Albus. I know the V-word bothers Professor Snape. I get the impression it's got to do with his Dark Mark or Harry's scar or something. The DL-name doesn't sound half as silly as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named but if it bothers you, I'll call him Tom or Riddle or Old Red Eye or Mouldywarts or Snakey Boy or hey, you two decide on a name. Are you going to Obliviate me?"

"I take it that you are very much against that idea?"

"I love my memories, Albus, even the really bad ones. I like my head just the way it is right now. For another thing, what's point? It's not like anyone would believe that I went on a cruise to Nassau and ended up at Hogwarts. If you think I'm telling anyone about this, then you're out of your mind. I'd lose my job and my friends. I'm certainly not blowing all my insurance benefits on a shrink who I don't need. I'm no danger to you. So what if everyone in the Muggle world has read these books? No one past the age of five believes a single word of it. Why Harry and Mouldy could face off at high noon on a Saturday in a Super Walmart parking lot and everyone would think it was more publicity for seventh book."

"Could you tell me what year this is, Jane?"

Great. So Albus thinks she's nuts too. "2006."

"Ah! That explains much. You are from our future, Jane."

"What year is this?"

"1995."

"Let me guess. There's no way for me to get back to 2006."

"There may be many ways. However, I do not know a way that you might accomplish that feat, other than living another eleven years, of course."

"Huh. This would be my junior year as an undergrad."

Snape was looking alive suddenly. "You can not contact yourself!"

"I can have a decent conversation with myself any time. Why would I want to upset a clueless eighteen year old?"

Snape pursed his lips then leaned back in his chair again. "I do see your point."

"So what are you going to do to me, Albus?"

"Do to you? I believe the proper question is: what can we do for you, Jane."

"All right, what can you do for me?"

"Spoken like an American," said Snape.

"We can give you use of rooms. You are of course free to stay here while you decide what next you wish to do with your life. We can give you the necessary papers and documents, a new work history and identity, whether you wish to return to the Muggle world or remain in this one. We can even offer you a position, if you have any interest in assisting our Professor of Muggle Studies?"

"I accept."

"Congratulations, the pay is terrible." Then Snape said to Albus, "If you are intent on ignoring the threat she poses, why not send Trelawney packing? Think of the savings in incense alone. Not to mention the fact that it is likely Miss Watts knows more about the future than when the next bottle of cooking sherry will go missing from the kitchens."

"Yes Severus, you raise an excellent point. Jane, I must ask you for the good of us all, not to reveal to anyone what you may know of our future."

"Well I was going to ask you about that. I was wondering if I could tell you both just a couple of things that I think you'll both want to know right before they happen."

"You can not share those secrets, not even with us," said Albus.

"If, for example, lives were at stake?"

"I am afraid there may be more at stake here than one life or a thousand. Therefore I ask you, reveal what you know of the events yet to pass to no one. I can only believe you have come by this information and to this place, for some greater purpose. I will not interfere so long as you wish to continue to carry this knowledge with you. I do fear the cost to you of bearing such a terrible burden. However if you must bear it, then bear it alone you must."

"I won't tell a soul, Albus."

"I knew that I could count on you, Jane. Perhaps it would be best if you assume the identity of a Squib. I must warn you, though there are laws protecting Squibs, they do suffer a certain amount of discrimination in our world, though not so much as Muggles, obviously."

"Albus, you may have noticed that I'm African-American."

For some reason that set Albus to twinkling. "An excellent point. Digglesby?"

"Pardon me?"

"Digglesby is most eager to be helping the Headsmaster!"

Jane turned in her chair and- Yikes! This one looked nothing like Dobby in the movie. Digglesby was a floppy-eared Grey sighting.

"Hi there. I'm Jane."

"Him Tarzan," said Snape in voice that oozed boredom.

"Digglesby is most happy to be meeting Miss Jane!" He hopped from one foot to the other to prove that point.

"We were wondering if you would care to show Jane to the suite behind Galdric the Grand?"

"Digglesby is most honored to be showing Miss Jane, Headsmaster Dumblydore! Miss Jane is coming with Digglesby now?"

"Not yet, but really soon. Do I need a password Albus?"

"Not until you pick one. The former Headmasters have informed Galdric to expect you. I believe that Digglesby might be delighted to help settle you in and to supply most anything you will require while you are here with us."

"Are you down with all that, Digglesby?"

"Digglesby is most with that all downs!"

"Just when I thought even the students couldn't make them any less intelligible," muttered Snape.

"You lead, I'll follow, Digglesby. Thank you Albus. Thank you Professor Snape. You won't regret not Obliviating me."

"You are assuming that we have no regrets already," said Snape gravely.

"Well if you don't have them now, you never will, Professor. Now let's go see all that's grand about this Galdric guy, Digglesby, before they change their minds and start overhauling mine. Hey! I'll bet you're a pro at magical hair removal!"

"Digglesby is most excited to be making Miss Jane shiny on all her hairy spotses!"

"Definitely not a hysterical type," she heard Snape say as the doors closed behind her.

Jane followed Digglesby, who would dash madly ahead, then wait for her and dash again, down many halls and stairs to a door sized portrait of a very grand looking person indeed. In fact he looked very much like a portrait she had seen, a Louis, was he the fifteenth? "Bon jour, Monsieur Galdric. Je m'apelle Jane Watts."

"By Merlin. Your French is more atrocious than mine!"

"Well, lucky for me you're not French then."

Galdric looked both ways, then beckoned Jane closer. He whispered, "My wife was responsible for this hideous period clothing. Let it be a lesson to you- never bet against a Highland Witch in a drinking contest."

"I'll remember that," Jane whispered back. "What would she have had to do if you won?"

"Not worth my paint to tell you. Why, she's not even dead yet!"

"Knock, knock?"

"Who's there?!?"

"Jane. Any chance you're going to let me into my room?"

"It would be wise to set a password first. Pranksters abound in these corridors."

Good point. It's 1995. What has no one commonly said yet? "Dubya is the worst President ever," whispered Jane.

Galdric slid away.

-tbc


End file.
